


polaroids & cigarettes

by leere



Category: South Park
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Marijuana, sowwy 4 weedz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-19 21:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16542866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: There's simply something nice about the serenity of it all.





	polaroids & cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from Sex, Drugs, Etc. by Beach Weather.
> 
> This is for Kenman Week, Day One. Prompt is "just the two of us - a moment with nobody else around."
> 
> This was sitting in my drafts a while, along with (most of) the other fics I'll be posting for Kenman Week - if I finish them, of course. It prompted me to clean 'em up and post them, so that's good. I'm terrible about hoarding unfinished drafts, lmao. Enjoy!

Spring has always been Kenny's favorite season. He loves the flowers, and the smells, and how the sky looks, and all the animals. Spring makes him feel like he's inside a movie, like Bambi, or Pocahontas, or maybe one of those more realistic Disney Nature films, since unfortunately life tends to be absolutely nothing like an animated kids movie. Regardless, spring was gorgeous. He'd always thought so. There's simply something nice about the serenity of it all.

He rolls over in bed and tells his half-asleep lover this, after having spent the last ten minutes laying silently and watching through the window as the birds flew around outside and sang their chirpy little songs.

"I hate spring," his messy-haired bed mate grumbles, rolling onto his stomach. "Too bright and colorful. Hurts my eyes."

Eric's voice is muffled by the pillow his face is shoved into, and anyone else would've deemed his words incoherent, but Kenny's no stranger to muffled voices. "You," he replies, smirking, "sound like an emo asshole."

Eric turns his head and opens one of his brown eyes, squinting at Kenny through his tousled hair. "Oh, shit, definitely don't wanna sound like an faggy emo. Excuse me, spring is, uh, beautiful. It's so... pretty and..." He stops, shutting his eyes again. "I'm too tired to bullshit."

Kenny grins down at him before resuming his bird-watching. "Keep sleeping, dude. No rush to get up. We got no where to be."

"What's today?"

Kenny reaches for Eric's phone, which is hooked up to the charger, on the nightstand beside them. He checks, then informs Eric that it's a Saturday. 

"I thought so. Good. Kahl's at Jew church, and Stan said he was busy, right? He mentioned something at lunch the other day, but I wasn't listening."

"Yeah, Stan's working on his promposal. He says it's gonna be super amazing."

"Hmm," Cartman grunts. "I bet he's gonna embarrass himself. Watch her say no." He turns his head to look at Kenny. "Are we going to prom?"

"If you want," Kenny replies.

Cartman doesn't answer. He closes his eyes again, and Kenny resists the urge to stroke his soft hair. Kenny's touchy when he's stoned, so he's petted all his friend's hair at some point or another, and Cartman easily has the softest of them all. It's fine and thin, like a baby's. Kenny loves stroking his fingers through it, but Cartman usually bitches about it. 

Eventually, Cartman sighs and starts to sit up. "You hungry?"

"Yeah, breakfast would be nice."

"My mom bought a omelet maker last Christmas. We've never used it, she always just makes them herself, but I'm too lazy to cook right now and I know you can't, so I guess we can get it out."

"Sweet," Kenny answers. 

They head downstairs, once Kenny gets his clothes on. Last night hadn't even been anything too exciting; he just likes sleeping naked, but Cartman had insisted he at least wear boxers. Cartman himself slept in a t-shirt and briefs, which Kenny thinks is totally adorable. It's modest and even a bit bashful, as opposed to Kenny's inclination towards nudity. It's a cute contrast, he thinks.

The only reason he bothers getting his clothes on at all is if Liane's down there, but she's no where to be found. Cartman peaks out of the living room window to check if her car's in the driveway. It's not. "Probably at Jazzercise," he says wryly. "Did I ever tell you about the time she made me do yoga with her?"

"You coulda said no, bro."

Cartman shrugs. "Flexibility's a good skill to have, right, Ken?"

Kenny grins. "Fuck yeah it is."

* * *

Once they're in the kitchen, Cartman has to get on his hands and knees to dig around on the bottom shelf of the utilities cabinet. Kenny nudges a socked foot at his ass, then strokes it down his bare thigh, just to fuck with him.

"Get your dirty ass foot off my ass or I won't suck you off for a month," Cartman says, from where his head has disappeared into the abyss that is Liane Cartman's place for storing her multitude of unnecessary kitchen appliances. It must be a hell of a lot deeper than it looks.

Kenny pulls his foot away instantly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. God forbid you don't get head for longer than three days, huh?"

"Blowjob droughts are the worst," Kenny says. "Blowjob droughts were, like, the fourth plague of Egypt."

"Okay." Cartman pulls the omelet maker out with a grunt, and lifts it up for Kenny to take while he gets to his feet. "God, you could hide a fucking body in there. I thought a swarm of bats were gonna fly into my face or something."

Kenny plugs the machine in, then says, "You got this, right? I can go take a shit?"

"I'm good." Cartman goes into the fridge for eggs. "But open the damn window, or I'll kill you. I'm already being nice enough, letting another man shit on my throne, you hear?"

"'Kay." Kenny heads into the bathroom. 

* * *

When he gets back, Cartman's already got one omelet made. "Fucking thing is a pain in the ass," he says, face pinched in annoyance.

"Looks good to me," Kenny says, taking the finished one off the counter. 

"Ay! That's mine!"

"Mine now, bitch."

Cartman resigns himself to that, and watches at Kenny takes a bite. "How is it?"

"It's okay. Not fluffy enough."

"There's no fluffy setting."

Kenny shrugs and takes another bite. "Your mom's are definitely better."

"Of course they are, dude. My mom's one redeeming quality is her cooking."

"Aw, that's mean."

"Yeah, whatever." He looks down at the omelet maker, watching as it counts down to being finished. He's tense all of a sudden. Kenny's sort of privy to the turbulence that is Cartman and Liane's current relationship, so he drops it.

By the time Cartman's breakfast is done, Kenny's finished with his, so he sets the plate in the sink and crosses his arms over his chest as he regards his companion, who's pouring an unhealthy amount of salt on his food.

"That  _was_ a healthy meal," he quips. "You're gonna fuck up your cholesterol or something. Sodium's in everything, you get enough throughout the day. You don't have to add more, you know."

"Is that a jizz joke?" Cartman asks, unamused, taking a bite. He chews skeptically, then shrugs, apparently deciding it's good enough.

"Not - not an intentional one."

"You sound like fucking Kahl. Since when are you a diet coach?"

"I'm just tellin' you, man."

"Yeah, whatever." They sit in silence for a long moment, Cartman chewing loudly while Kenny hops up on the counter and starts swinging his feet, humming a rap song to himself while kicking Cartman softly in the back, just to annoy him. "I hate you," Cartman says, without looking at him.

"Yeah," Kenny answers.

Cartman finishes, and puts his plate in the dish washer. Then he turns to Kenny. "You wanna go in the garage?"

* * *

When he'd turned fourteen, he'd told Liane the garage was his from then on (though it already was) and set about making it his little man cave. Unfortunately, he hadn't had a steady income at the time, and Liane had long since found ways of limiting his use of her credit cards, ways that he hadn't been able to find a way around, and thus he couldn't do much decorating. He'd grabbed a stained and torn couch left on the sidewalk by some neighbour, and claimed the living room television. Liane hadn't protested, and a new television set appeared in the house about a week later. And that's all it was, originally; a dingy couch and a illegitimate TV.  


Simple and trashy as it was, the garage became a popular hang out spot, namely because you could easily hotbox the fucking thing, and that's exactly what they did. Over time, it acquired various decorations and utilities; an entertainment center stacked with films and video games, and several consoles, and some posters of musicians and nice cars and pin up girls on the wall (ironic, considering Cartman's sexuality, but it fit the vibe. Kenny had carefully ripped them out of his own magazines, actually, when Cartman had proposed they decorate it a bit. "Heterosexuality looks cool," Cartman had explained, when Kenny questioned his choices.)

There was a drum set in the corner, something Cartman had found at a garage sale and bought impulsively, before losing interest after a few days of torturing his mom with off-beat pounding. Now it was a staple of the garage. Nobody played well, but everyone liked to fuck around on it. Otherwise, the garage was pretty barren, but it more than served its purpose.

Cartman didn't care enough to work towards renovating his half-assed little den, so it remained fairly grimy. Nonetheless, Kenny and him spent most of their time inside. They'd hang out and play GTA or Halo, maybe smoke a little - sometimes they watched stoner movies because Kenny likes them and Cartman does if he's bored enough, though he complains when Kenny wants to watch Pineapple Express for the thirtieth time, because "James Franco's not even hot in that one." 

"Yeah," Kenny replies.

They head out, and Cartman turns on the light in there, so they can see. It's hot, humid and uncomfortable; they'll be sticky with sweat within minutes. Cartman puts on the fan in the corner while Kenny strips down to his boxers again.

"Do you always have to be naked?"

"Yes," Kenny says. "My body's all I got in this world. And my charming disposition, of course."

Cartman falls down onto the couch and narrows his eyes at Kenny. "You forgot to open the window in the bathroom, didn't you."

"Possibly."

"Go do it, motherfucker." Cartman leans to the side and retrieves his stash of weed, stuffed between the drum set and couch. "I'm gonna roll, you wanna smoke or not?"

"Yeah, I guess." Kenny heads inside for a minute, goes to open the window, then takes a moment to regard himself in the mirror. There's a single hickey on his neck, because Cartman's not one for being passionate in bed, in any sense of the word, at least with Kenny. He's a lazy and bitchy lover, a bratty pillow princess, but Kenny's kind of in love with it. It's so different than the Cartman the others know, which is probably what he likes. That he gets to see a side of him that no one else has.

He goes back into the garage and sits down. "Hey, Eric?"

Cartman glances over, the freshly-rolled joint hanging out of his mouth, unlit.

"I love you, dude." It's not an admission of anything serious, they both know that, but the words feel good to say.

Cartman looks at him carefully. Then he takes the joint, turns it, and holds it up to Kenny's face. Kenny opens his mouth and lets Cartman slide it between his lips, then watches as Cartman grabs the lighter on the table and lights it for him.

Kenny inhales deeply, then holds his breath, smoke coming out his nose. "Thanks," he mumbles. Cartman nods, smiling softly at him - fondly. Unguarded. It makes Kenny's heart swell.

He doesn't say that he loves Kenny back, but Kenny doesn't stress himself out over it. Words never meant anything to Cartman, but his actions always spoke loudest. And the way Cartman smiles at him every time they're alone together, genuine and unfiltered, says it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Garage thing came from a headcanon I came up with on the spot on Discord a while back. Translated nicely to the fic.
> 
> The thing with the joint is a reference to my favorite Kenman fic ever, Dulcinea by Hollycomb. Go read it if you haven't, it's absolutely incredible.
> 
> Also, can you tell where I gave up on calling Cartman "Eric". Yeah. Hah. Hope you liked.


End file.
